


i could be a morning sunrise all the time

by strongbut



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Crack Relationships, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Life-Affirming Sex, Opposites Attract, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongbut/pseuds/strongbut
Summary: Cassandra de Rolo, Guardian of the Woven Stone, Leader of the Council of Whitestone, has fallen in love. This takes some getting used to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is a crackship but i really think they'd be good together! bear with me! i'm also aware that the tags make this sound very dramatic and dark but i promise it's mostly cassandra de rolo, guardian of the wooden stone, leader of the council of whitestone, awkwardly trying to flirt and then lots of kissing.
> 
> this is technically a sequel to 'a different kind of danger' but you really don't need to have read it to know what's going on. 
> 
> title is from 'she keeps me warm' by mary lambert because i'm really sappy.

Falling in love felt a bit like catching a cold. At first it’s just a tickle in the back of your throat, a slight soreness in the joints. Then your nose swells up or you feel a bit nauseous, but still, it’s nothing particularly concerning. And then you wake up one fine morning and your head hurts like hell and your nose is running like a faucet and you realize that all the little hints, the ones you brushed off as inconsequential, were warning signs, and you might have prevented this had you listened. That was what falling in love was like.

The first time Cassandra met Lyra, she thought her an absolutely ridiculous human being. It took several meetings after that before Cassandra privately admitted that Lyra was perhaps not unintelligent and had a strength of will that rivaled her own. This reluctant admittance grew to admiration, which grew to affection. And then, finally, Cassandra found herself imagining what Lyra must look like without her glasses and then, what Lyra must look like without her clothes. That was when she realized that, horror of horrors, she’d developed _feelings._

“Damn her,” Cassandra whispered at the back of Lyra’s head, her hair curling so soft and delicate and… She shook herself. She’d been oblivious before but no longer, no longer would she let that beautiful, blundering mess of a woman bewitch her heart. It was childish. It was perfectly wonderful and sickening all at once. It had to be stopped.

The first step in freeing herself from the burden of romantic feeling was getting rid of Lyra. This was easier said than done. For one, Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to actually ask the poor girl to leave Whitestone; that might hurt her feelings which might actually kill Cassandra. The trick was to make Lyra think that _she_ wanted to leave Whitestone. It wasn’t a particularly complicated set of manipulations; certainly Cassandra arranged more difficult matters between visiting diplomats on a near-daily basis. The problem was that whenever Lyra was within a hundred feet, Cassandra’s brain turned to aspic and the only thing she could focus on was _oh wow, Lyra has the most beautiful little upturned nose and such white teeth and an egg-shaped birthmark behind her left ear and oh, wouldn’t it be nice to put her mouth on that birthmark and kiss down her neck_. Which was hardly a productive train of thought. 

She needed back-up. Someone to do the dirty work that Cassandra couldn’t and wouldn’t do. Someone thoroughly unsentimental and cold to the bone. A few years ago she would have asked Percival but since his marriage he’d gone positively _soft_ and could be counted on for little else but producing a new screaming infant every 1.5 years. She needed someone reliably unromantic; naturally she chose her brother’s wife.

Despite being seven months pregnant, Vex’ahlia was still sharp as a tack. She drew herself up to her full height, tossed her braid over her shoulder, and fixed Cassandra with a stern, schoolmarm-ish sort of look. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What’s wrong with Lyra?”

Cassandra pretended to sort through some papers on her desk. “She’s a distraction. As I said.” 

“How.” 

“She just is. She distracts me.”

“There’s absolutely no reason for the two of you to ever interact,” Vex pointed out, trying to cross her arms over her stomach and managing, barely.

“Well we do.”

“And you find her distracting.”

“Very.”

They stood in silence for nearly a full minute while Cassandra continued her charade of looking for a very important document hidden amongst the general clutter of her study. When Vex spoke again it was surprisingly gentle, though she still had the look of a lion staring down a gazelle. “You’re nearly twenty-five, darling. You’re not a child anymore.”

“I haven’t been a child in a very long time,” Cassandra snapped. Then, feeling a twinge of guilt, she sighed and fell back into her chair. “I haven’t been a child in ten years, which is why it’s so frustrating to suddenly feel like one.”

With difficulty, Vex lowered herself in a leather armchair. “I only meant that it’s natural for you to… Find yourself distracted sometimes by pretty girls.” 

Cassandra opened her mouth to protest that Lyra was absolutely not pretty, no not at all, and then she thought of the way Lyra smiled when she read a particularly interesting passage in a book, and then she was distracted and flustered all over again. “Is it always so bloody humiliating?” she asked weakly.

“Oh yes, and then you get to the point that you don’t even mind and then you’re really a goner,” Vex said, laughing and rubbing her stomach. “You really oughtn’t feel bad. You’re doing what young people do.”

“Like you’re so much older,” Cassandra huffed. “Besides, she doesn’t even… What would people say?”

Thank Pelor she didn’t have to spell it out. Vex nodded curtly; no doubt she’d grown accustomed to Whitestone’s sense of propriety. 

“I know how things were when you were growing up. Percy’s told me enough and… You mustn’t tell him that I told you this, but he struggled with it quite a bit. And I know you want to preserve your family’s traditions but… You also have the chance to make some new traditions. The rest of Tal’Dorei isn’t nearly as conservative and so many refugees have settled here and they certainly have their own sense of um, sexual ethics.” 

Cheeks burning, Cassandra became very interested in the wallpaper. It was a deep maroon with little golden leaves twisting up and down. Her father picked it out. He said he liked a bit of naturearound even when he was stuck indoors. Her parents never spoke about this sort of thing. _Sex_. Not that her upbringing was prudish exactly, not with two extremely silly older sisters. Vesper was the one who sat her down and explained where babies came from and why Mother was in a foul mood every third week of the month. Vesper, who delighted in the vulgar and obscene, who collected silly romance novels and practiced kissing on the wooden knob of her headboard. Whitney could spend hours comparing eligible bachelors and imagining their various talents in bed. 

It was just that it was only ever bachelors. 

“I don’t care what Percival would say,” Cassandra said. “But I wouldn’t like someone like Keeper Yennen to feel I was… Putting on a bad show.”

“For the record,” said Vex, raising one thin eyebrow and lips twitching up into a smile. “Percival just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t give a damn if it’s with Lyra or Grog or a dildo under your mattress.” 

Had she not had years of practice controlling her feelings, Cassandra thought she might have screamed right then and there. Instead she pursed her lips and tried to look regal. “Don’t be uncouth.”

Vex shrugged. “Doctor Taylor’s shop in Emon comes _highly_ recommended, darling.”

“I don’t _want_ a dildo, Vex’ahlia. I don’t want to be happy _that way_ with anyone! I just want things to go back to the way they were!” Cassandra wished she didn’t sound so petulant, like little Jane when she wanted another helping of dessert; she hated that sex, even hypothetical sex, had the power to turn her into a bratty child. 

“Then there isn’t a problem. If you don’t want to experience that side of life then don’t.” Vex had the courtesy not to look smug. “But I think you do want to be happy that way. Or Lyra’s presence wouldn’t be such a distraction.”

That was the truth of it, albeit a simplified, crude rendering of a truth that shifted so often that Cassandra had long ago stopped trying to understand it. There were other factors of course…complications, terrors that couldn’t be waved away, but… 

It was true. To an extent. Cassandra wanted Lyra. She wanted her in a thoroughly silly and soppy way; she wanted to kiss her good morning and bring her breakfast in bed. She wanted to take Lyra dancing. 

Cassandra groaned.

“Ahhh, I remember those days,” Vex said dreamily.

 

* * *

 

 Vex’ahlia did have a point, which was that there was very little reason for Cassandra to see Lyra at all. Of course they were introduced at her arrival and exchanged pleasantries; Cassandra found her voice grating but suffered stoically. Most of Percival’s various friends and compatriots were annoying. Cassandra was always gracious, always welcoming, always privately jealous that her awkward older brother had such an active social life while she labored over building contracts and trade agreements. Had she been allowed to go off and have adventures and slay dragons then perhaps she would have gained her own network of annoying friends (and yet somehow she doubted that; Percival had an odd warmth that she could not pretend to understand or imitate). 

Perhaps her initial irritation with Lyra had nothing to do with Lyra at all, perhaps it was a burst of jealousy directed at the nearest person who had what Cassandra did not. Certainly being able to travel across the Ozmit Sea for the joy of scholarly research implied a freedom that was very appealing. 

Or perhaps it was Lyra’s decided awkwardness in addressing the children. She seemed unsure how to modulate her tone when speaking to Jane and Amelia, varying between a squeal and business-like patter. Amelia, who was already a shy little thing, hid behind her mother’s skirts and a protective fury bubbled up Cassandra’s windpipe. How dare this intruder make her nieces uncomfortable? It was clearly not intentional malice, just a hesitation in how best to speak to two toddlers, and yet Cassandra despised it.

And then there was the dress Lyra wore to dinner, terribly low-cut and in the gaudiest yellow satin. Quite inappropriate for a formal banquet, especially in the depths of a Whitestone winter, when it wasn’t unusual for Cassandra to wear her mittens and cloak to bed. Of course Lyra shivered the whole time until dear, patient Vex offered her a shawl, but it was awkward. Cassandra put a lot of energy into minimizing awkwardness whenever she could, and this flighty creature seemed to thrive in it. 

And yet, Lyra was interesting. She was a warrior who could hardly walk in a straight line without injuring herself, a scholar who said the stupidest things without thinking. She was constantly laughed at, even by her friends, and still remained perpetually cheerful. She was not unattractive, as the yellow dress made obvious, and yet when Percival inquired politely after her romantic prospects, her face darkened and she muttered a gloomy “nothing to speak of” into her soup. Cassandra saw the look Vex gave Percival, who very quickly changed the subject to the weather.

 

* * *

“Perhaps she doesn’t like me,” Cassandra said. She had taken her luncheon in the nursery, and was now helping Jane build a tower of blocks. Vex’ahlia, serenely sorting through knitted onesies, sighed and tilted the rocking chair forwards.

“Perhaps not. The only person who knows whether or not Lyra likes you is Lyra. I suggest you ask her.”

Cassandra fished a wooden block out of Amelia’s mouth and handed it back to Jane. “Does she even like women, though? Perhaps I’m not even an option.” 

“I don’t know. You should ask her.”

“How does one ask that? _Hello, are you attracted to your own sex?_ Be serious.”

“You say something exactly like that.”

“You gave Percival a look,” Cassandra said, choosing her words carefully. “When he asked about her romantic prospects. I assume they were a topic of previous discussion.”

Vex made a clucking noise under her breath. “Oh darling, that’s not my story to tell. I _will_ say that poor Lyra’s had a rough time of it. She… suffered a loss some time ago. I think Percival hoped that she had begun to heal, and she has in other ways, quite beautifully. You have no idea how silly and self-doubting she was when we first met her. But I suppose that that… loss has remained painful for her.” 

That was when Amelia bumped into the tower of blocks, bringing them all own on top of her and prompting a mild catastrophe. By the time Amelia had her boo-boos kissed and her cries soothed, Vex’ahlia was nearly late to meeting to discuss fishing regulations and Cassandra was covered such a quantity of toddler drool that she thought she had better take a bath before supper. It was a coincidence that she passed the library on the way to the baths, and out of a vague curiosity that she poked inside, listening for Lyra’s humming. 

 

* * *

 

 Lyra’s thesis concerned Great-Great-Grandmother Louise, a talented arcane mathematician who theorized something that Cassandra was never able to fully grasp except that it had to do with numbers. Lyra understood though, and tried very desperately to explain, her voice rising in pitch as her excitement grew. “See, so if we can simplify the output of residuum, then you just solve within the parentheses, like so…” It was gibberish, but Lyra looked so happy to share and Cassandra just smiled and nodded along as if it made the slightest bit of sense.

“My idea is that if you adapt Louise’s theorem slightly and take our current understanding of how the gravitational field warps heat into account…”

Cassandra waited expectantly. Lyra flushed. “The equation will just make a little more sense, that’s all. It’s not a big discovery, I guess. But I’d like to modernize Louise’s so hopefully it’s a little more well-known.”

“I always thought of her as the one portrait with the ruby tiara,” Cassandra said. "Funny to think you'd know her work all the way in Vasselheim." 

“Not one for the sciences?” It was said without disappointment, just curiosity. Cassandra, used to Percival’s intellectual arrogance, was a little startled at Lyra’s lack of judgement.

“I appreciate it, I just don’t understand much of it. I always tended more towards the fiction section,” Cassandra said, extending her hand towards the rest of the library. “Poetry and nonsense like that. I haven’t had much time to read for pleasure lately.”

Lyra cocked her head to the side and frowned. It was an adorable frown. “That’s not nonsense at all. I love poetry, though I don’t always understand it. Novels are easier. Fewer metaphors and it’s nice to have a story to follow. Have you read _The Cursed Passageway_? My friend Zahra gave it to me and it was so lovely, I just cried at the ending when the sword goes missing and— Am I talking too much? I’m sorry, you must be so busy and I’m going on about my silly romances.” Lyra began gathering up her notes, flushed pink down her neck; Cassandra felt oddly flushed as well.

“Please go on. I like silly romances, really,” Cassandra said. She felt brave enough to lay a hand on Lyra’s arm to steady her and found the touch, muffled by Lyra’s wool sweater, to be oddly invigorating. 

“You could borrow _The Cursed Passageway_ if you want,” Lyra said. She was staring at Cassandra with those big brown eyes, and Cassandra realized that she was gripping her arm perhaps too tightly. She let go and Lyra’s blinked but did not relax.

“Forgive me,” Cassandra muttered. “I am quite tired.” And then, seeing no way to resolve the situation and becoming steadily dizzier the longer Lyra stared, she turned on her heel and flounced out of the library, hoping her blush wasn’t visible from behind.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back! i promise this should be the end of cassandra's moping!
> 
> also! i'm on tumblr as jesterstrongbutt and will probably post snippets and updates as i continue writing, so follow me/say hi/etc.

It wasn’t that Cassandra didn’t understand the value of appearances, it was just that, in her estimation, prettiness wasn’t a valuable use of her appearance. She knew that her leadership would feel less jarring if she looked like a de Rolo, and so she emphasized those features which were unmistakably de Rolo. She pulled back her hair into a tight bun that prominently displayed the streaks of white that plagued every de Rolo for the last hundred years and made her forehead look perhaps larger than was considered comely, because her father had had a large forehead. She dressed years out of fashion; she dressed like her mother had. She designed her wardrobe, her hair, her every facial movement, to instill a sense of her heredity, her absolute right to claim Whitestone Castle for her own.

If she considered the ramifications of her personal style, that it dulled her charms, made her look matronly and severe, it was with a rush of joy. The idea of being desired, of being even considered as a sexual partner, was nauseating. Pretty girls were weak. Pretty girls had a target on their back.

She knew what the villagers whispered about. She knew they remembered her trailing behind the Briarwoods, draped in silks, too-tight bodices pushing her minuscule breasts up to her shoulders. They had seen the way Lady Briarwood led her through the castle, one hand on the curve of her hip. Those impressions were fading by the day but it would only take the smallest impropriety for it to all come flooding back. The laughter, the giggling, the crude chalk graffiti on the tavern wall.

What did that farmer call her? _Delilah’s little whore._ It was years ago, around the time of the first dragon attack. He was upset over turnip prices or something equally ridiculous and she’d refused his request for stricter tariffs. It was almost funny, this fat little man with his chest puffed out, daring to impugn her honor when she held his livelihood in her hands. How he seethed when she let him go without even a flogging, how badly he wanted her to lose her temper so he could claim to have touched a nerve.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra didn’t want to be pretty, not ever, but she wanted Lyra to like her and she knew that people liked pretty girls. She even tried, with her bedroom door bolted shut and the curtains drawn, to make herself softer, sweeter. She let her hair down and dabbed rouge on her lips and surveyed herself from every angle.

It was no use. She was all hard lines and sallow skin and those horrible scars snaking up her middle. She touched the puckered skin just above her belly and followed the exit wounds past her ribcage, under her left breast, all the way nearly to her neck. Her neck, with its own set of scars, equally hideous. Were she not disfigured, she might be plain but passable. No beauty, not like Vesper, but perhaps to someone’s taste. Flat-chested and getting fat from years of state banquets, but that was an occupational hazard.

If it weren’t for the scars.

A knock on the door woke her from her melancholy and Cassandra wrapped herself in a tartan robe, scowling. The guards were under strict orders not to disturb her in her private quarters unless there was an emergency of some magnitude; Percival might pop in rarely to ask for advice on some diplomatic issue or other and occasionally the children might invade in search of tea and jam, but otherwise her bedroom was sacrosanct.

“One moment!”

Cassandra fiddled with a hair ribbon as she unlatched the door and flung it open, dropping it when she saw Lyra, clutching a stack of books and swaying forward on the balls of her feet.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you!” Lyra jumped backwards and Cassandra tightened the robe around her neck. She straightened her back. _Eyes ahead, shoulders back, show no fear._

“It’s quite all right, I was just resting. Please, come in,” she held the door open and, as Lyra scurried inside, wiped the rouge with her sleeve, staining it pink.

“I didn’t realize this was your personal bedroom,” Lyra squeaked. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known, I just felt so bad for being so awkward earlier and I wanted to apologize and bring you those books. Err, I mean I looked everywhere for _The Cursed Passageway_ but I must have left it in Vasselheim, but I brought some of my other favorites for you.” She held out her arms. Cassandra glanced at bright and lurid covers and felt a laugh erupt deep in her chest.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Please, sit down.” Lyra found a tattered velvet armchair and sat, the books spilling onto her lap. Cassandra stood, nervous about her robe opening.

“I also wanted to thank you for being so gracious and such a good host and letting me use the library,” Lyra said. It had the sound of a rehearsed speech.

“Thank Percival. He vouched for you.”

“Yes but you’ve been very kind too and you’re the one who’s actually in charge here, so…” Lyra shrugged and smiled. “I know I can make people uncomfortable and if I did, I am so sorry. I’m really working on that.”

Cassandra thought she felt her heart actually quiver; this dear, sweet, adorable woman was apologizing to _her_? It was so pathetic and unfair that she wanted to rush into Lyra’s arms and kiss the side of her head and comfort her for having made Cassandra uncomfortable without trying because it wasn’t her fault, not really, it was Cassandra’s fault for being so bloody strange and miserable and bad at being a woman.

She chose her next words very carefully. “You have done nothing wrong. I find that I am sometimes without many social graces, and any awkwardness was mine alone. You are… charming. Truly. And I am very glad to have you in Whitestone.”

Lyra’s mouth hung slack before shutting very fast. “But you always know what to say! You boss around men with guns!”

“There’s a difference between socializing to gain something, because you have an objective you want to accomplish, and… Simply taking pleasure in another’s company. I have learned some skill in the former but am quite hopeless at the latter.” Honesty felt heavy on her tongue but Lyra was close enough where Cassandra could count her freckles. She felt very naked under her robe, contagiously naked, obscenely naked.

“What about Percy? And the children! You’re so good with them, really. They follow you around like ducklings!” In her enthusiasm for complimenting Cassandra, Lyra leaned forward and a paperback novel slid onto the floor. She didn’t retrieve it. “Don’t sell yourself short, alright? From one awkward person to another, you are not awkward at all.”

“Percival has known me since the day I was born. His wife has lived down the hall for almost five years now. Their children are… I’ve known them since the day they were born. They are used to me and my mannerisms, and I theirs. They’re the exception,” Cassandra said, swallowing hard. “Please don’t worry about me. I am not in need of bucking up. I just wanted to reassure you.”

“I wanted to reassure _you_ ,” said Lyra.

“Well,” said Cassandra. “We are both reassured.”

Lyra glanced at the door and Cassandra felt her throat tighten. She had a sudden flash of violence; she wanted to pin Lyra down and make her stay. As soon as she pictured it she felt all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was as if she swallowed a bucket of ice water. That was the sort of thing a monster imagine. The sort of thought that Delilah probably had had many times towards Cassandra.

_Howcouldyouhowcouldyouhowcouldyouhowcouldyou._

Another of Lyra’s books thudded to the ground and this time Lyra quickly snatched it up and tucked it under her arm. “You don’t have to read these if you don’t want. Not that you would do anything you don’t want to do but, I just meant you don’t have to pretend to read them for me or anything. It was just a thought.”

In truth, what little time Cassandra had for recreation was unlikely to be spent pouring over some cheesy bodice-rippers. And yet, the look on Lyra’s face was so obviously trying to look composed and was still so pathetic, and it made Cassandra’s gut go all wriggly, and she thought she might put off anything to sit and read those terrible books if it would make Lyra happy.

“No, I want to read them. Which is your favorite, or…” It occured to Cassandra that she really did not want to have a long discussion wearing nothing but a robe. _She really wanted to have a long discussion wearing nothing but a robe._

“Would you join me for dinner? Unless you had other plans, of course. Percival and Vex’ahlia are dining privately, and I would be glad of the company.”

A muddy pink spread across Lyra’s cheeks and Cassandra felt her heart fall into her stomach. She began to analyze the reasons for the blush: Was Lyra embarrassed on Cassandra’s behalf? Did she recognize the invitation as a romantic gesture? Was she horrified at being propositioned, even respectably, or was she pleased?

Finally, Lyra spoke. “That is very kind of you. I’d really like that, but only if it’s no trouble.”

“Not a bit of trouble. It will be casual, of course, just some stew around the fire, but I want to hear more about your research.” Cassandra made a mental note to tell the servants that she wanted stew and for it to be served around the fire. “Seven o’clock, then? In the green parlour. Your maid will give you directions.”

Lyra nodded and the pink tinge vanished. “I’ll leave the books here, I guess? Just return whatever seems boring or isn’t interesting or anything.” She began to stack her cargo on the floor to the side of her chair, her dark curls falling and obscuring her face. Cassandra touched her own thinning locks a little self-consciously. She was suddenly reminded of her undesirability, thrown into stark contrast when confronted with Lyra’s round cheeks and perfectly shaped brows and general air of loveliness. Lyra was _pretty._ Vesper would have died for her well-defined figure, her bright eyes, her tinkling little laugh.

What would Vesper say if she saw the grown-up Cassandra? Would she cluck over the rapidly growing white streak, advise moisturizing soaps and creams, worry over the bags under her eyes? Would she recognize her at all? Would she be ashamed to be seen with her lest Cassandra’s proximity blight her own prettiness?

Those were useless thoughts. Cassandra pushed them away.

“You remind me a bit of my sister,” Cassandra said. Lyra looked up suddenly.

“How so?”

“Oh, just your way of speaking. Your general air.” Cassandra smoothed the front of her robe. The comparison grew stronger the more she dwelt on it. “Vesper. She was the oldest girl, second oldest next to Julius. She loved those kinds of books. Romances. Mother didn’t like her reading them so she hid them under her mattress and bribed her maid not to tell.”

“I would have liked to have met her,” Lyra said. It was a stupid thing to say, the same thing everyone said when Cassandra allowed herself a moment of nostalgia. And yet, it didn’t make her angry, only sad for putting Lyra in the position of having to offer comfort, even cliched comfort.

“I daresay she would have had quite a few recommendations for you,” Cassandra said, willing her voice to sound bright and empty. “I wish I knew where her little library ended up. I’m sure someone threw it out years ago.”

“If you find it, let me know? I’d like to see if we had favorites in common,” Lyra said. She stood up and extended a hand. “I should get back to my notes but I’ll see you tonight? Seven o’clock?”

Cassandra took her hand and squeezed it. She was slightly disappointed; it was not particularly warm or soft or special. It was just a hand like so many others. There was nothing of Lyra in it.

“I look forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

Finally alone, Cassandra locked the door again and threw the robe onto her bed. She felt giddy, almost drunk on her daring, and somehow acutely miserable at the same time. She wished Vex’ahlia wasn’t so busy. Vex’ahlia understood sex and romance the way Cassandra understood politics: intuitively, with a sense of vocation. Vex’ahlia bedded women once upon a time, before her disgustingly public happiness with Percival, and Vex’ahlia knew what it was to want something and then not want it and not be able to get away from it and afterwards to blame yourself and feel dirty and ugly and evil. Vex’ahlia used the legal term with flourish, with confidence. Rape. Cassandra preferred the more descriptive _torture._

But Vex’ahlia was busy preparing for the baby and her subsequent recovery, fitting months of work into a few weeks so that it would all run smoothly without her. Cassandra had few other close friends. Percival was too awkward and was similarly distracted. Keyleth maybe, but Keyleth was halfway across the world and still healing from her own loss. Gilmore was spending the month with his parents in Ank’Harel. Pike was in Emon and almost too kind and decent for any real intimacy. Kynan occasionally spoke of personal matters but Cassandra felt it was slightly inappropriate as his employer to burden him with her problems. Allura? She had the advantage of being a lesbian but somehow Cassandra couldn’t imagine allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of such an imposing figure. Kima might laugh.

It was rather humbling to realize the depths of one’s loneliness. Already melancholy, Cassandra lay down and allowed herself to imagine telling Vesper about her dilemma.

 _“I think I really, really love her.” “Oh dearest.”_ But would Vesper be able to hide her revulsion? Would she ask why Cassandra couldn’t find a man to lust over? Would she laugh?

Cassandra indulged in a few self-loathing sobs and then sat up and yawned. There were reams of paperwork to look through before supper and nothing, she had found, healed one’s soul like the mind-numbing dullness of paperwork.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter carries a very very mild trigger warning for pregnancy/birth problems. spoiler no spoilers but everything turns out fine.
> 
> also thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed and kudos'ed and bookmarked! you are are so wonderful!

Cassandra heard a scream.

It echoed dully in the back of her mind, and then slowly she realized: Someone was screaming. She gripped the dagger under her jacket and ran into the hallway without thinking.

She only found time to think until the commotion was over and, heart pounding, she rested her back against the cool, smooth stone of the corridor outside Vex’s bedroom. She had been frightened. She was still frightened. She was alright, and there was no danger. There was danger but it was controlled and far less apocalyptic than the danger she was used to.

Percival placed in concentric circles and the tapping of his boots against the floor made a comforting rhythm. He was still frightened, and his hands shook. She felt a distant affection for him, as if she were reading about his distress in a very poorly-written book. 

“She’ll be fine,” Cassandra said. Talking helped. It made everything feel real again to hear her own voice rumble in her chest. 

“You don’t know that,” Percival said darkly. 

“No, but the healer said so and the healer knows.” 

Undeterred, Percival continued his pacing. “What about the baby?” 

Cassandra frowned; she had forgotten about the baby. Somehow, through whispering comfort into Vex’s sweat-drenched hair, corralling the children into the nursery, pouring Percival a sizable glass of brandy, thanking the healer with the graciousness he deserved— All of that work and she’d forgotten there was a baby at stake. She  _ must  _ have known, could distinctly remember herself explaining to a servant that “the baby has come a little earlier than we’d like,” but behind it there was no comprehension. It was as if  _ the baby _ was an odd colloquialism for some mysterious disease and once Vex was cured, the baby would go away. 

_ The baby would go away. _

Understanding hit her like a punch to the stomach. 

“The baby will be fine,” Cassandra said firmly, though she could offer no guarantees; the healer hadn’t mentioned anything about the baby’s health specifically. Her lack of curiosity was shocking in hindsight. Why hadn’t she questioned him, demanded he tell it to her straight? Had she been sleepwalking? Exhausted, she let panic consume her. It had been waiting at the edges of her consciousness since Vex’s pained cries first echoed through the castle and now it was almost a relief to let it rush forward, squeezing her heart and her throat. 

“Oh Percival, did he say anything about the baby? Please tell me, pleasepleaseplease. Is it alright? Vex can’t lose it, she can’tshecan’tshecan’t.” It spilled out of her without her bidding, just as her body lunged forward and grabbed Percival’s hand in her own. 

“Cass?” He took her by the shoulders and shook gently. “Cassandra, breathe. We can’t have you collapsing too.” His lower lip quivered slightly. “Nobody knows what’ll happen to the baby.” 

_ Nobody knows  _ was an improvement over dead. Cassandra steadied herself. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s a trying situation,” Percival said, half-chuckling. “Thank you, by the way. For managing it.”

Had she managed it? Cassandra couldn’t remember. It all very fuzzy. She remembered Vex’s hand squeezing her own, servants rushing to and fro; there was blood. Her breath caught in her throat.  _ Ohgodstherewasblood.  _ And a pungent herbal smell as the healer rushed in, and the soft weight of Jane against her chest. _ “Mama’s not feeling very well, but she’ll be just fine. Come along sweetheart, let’s leave her to rest, hmm?”  _

“I always manage until the crisis is over and then I go off my head. It’s becoming a pattern,” she said. She unhooked herself from Percival’s grip and clapped him on the back. He winced. 

“I think I frightened her. She was alright when she thought it was just a stomachache, and then she saw my face and that’s when she started to scream and…” He kicked at the wall. “I should have kept her calm like you did.” 

“She was always going to be frightened. It’s a frightening thing,” Cassandra said. “I don’t know how Mother and Father did it  _ seven _ times.”

They contemplated this mystery in silence.

 

* * *

 

The baby was fine and Vex was fine, though very pale and very miserable at the prospect of being trapped in bed for the next two months. It was good to see her grumpy instead of terrified. Cassandra curled up against her and felt the baby kick through her belly. It was fine. 

“I’ll bring you lots of books. You won’t be bored, I promise,” she said into Vex’s collarbone. She knew that Vex needed rest and Percival wanted to be alone with his wife and she still couldn’t bring herself to leave. She could hear Vex’s heartbeat, strong and sure, and she could feel the baby’s gentle nudgings. She felt safe. 

“I expect more than books, darling. You better spend every spare minute amusing me,” Vex muttered. “Daily visits at a minimum. Fresh flowers every other day.”

“Of course dear.” Percival’s voice was jarring and loud and Cassandra wanted to put her hands over her ears and block him out, make him go away. Instead she sat up and gave Vex a kiss on the cheek. 

“I promise I’ll check on you before breakfast, alright? Now get some sleep.” 

* * *

 

She hadn’t forgotten about dinner with Lyra, just pushed it to the back of her mind. No doubt someone had told Lyra about Vex, so she would know why Cassandra had abandoned her. Still. It was an awful coincidence. Instead of spending the evening with Lyra, she spent it worrying herself sick over her sister-in-law (her  _ best friend _ , she mentally corrected) and trying to soothe her brother’s frazzled nerves. Her stomach felt hollow and sick but she knew that if she didn’t try to eat something that she’d feel worse in the morning.

The last person Cassandra expected to see sitting on the kitchen table, her legs swinging over the edge, was Lyra. She blinked. 

“I thought you’d come in eventually and I wanted to make sure you were all right. That Vex is alright.”

“She’s weak but fine.”

They stared at each other. Lyra was dressed in a thick grey turtleneck over a black skirt, her hair piled high on top of her head. It was adorable. She looked adorable. Cassandra realized what a fright she must look, splatters of red drying along her sleeves. 

“I apologize for missing our engagement,” she said, drawing her shoulders up and trying to smile. 

“You couldn’t help it. I just wanted to make sure— Percy and Vex seemed so excited about this baby and I couldn’t imagine…” Lyra trailed off. Cassandra nodded. She had imagined. She had imagined Percival’s solemn acceptance because he  _ would _ try so very hard to be brave for the children. She imagined Vex’s anguished sobs, the little shroud, stiff black dresses for Jane and Amelia.

“Vex’ahlia is on bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but the healer was optimistic,” Cassandra said. “Please don’t trouble yourself any further. With Pelor’s help, all will be well.”

“You must have been so afraid,” Lyra said. Without thinking (or with thinking, with knowing fully how vulnerable and idiotic she made herself) Cassandra nodded.

“They are my only family. It’s been… pleasant to hear children in Whitestone once again.”

Lyra nodded like she understood what that meant and pointed at a half-open cupboard just behind Cassandra’s head. “The cook left some bread and cheese for you. You should eat and sleep and…” She paused. Cassandra felt her throat tighten.

“I really wanted to have dinner with you,” she said, her voice heavy with muffled sniffling. Lyra scrunched up her face and scooted off the edge of the table, running forward and taking Cassandra into her arms. It was an awkward motion and Cassandra felt her cheekbone hit Lyra’s shoulder with some discomfort.

Pitying Lyra came easy-- she was painfully awkward, socially inappropriate, a walking mass of problems that needed fixing. And if Cassandra was good at anything, it was fixing other people’s problems. She had watched Lyra fumble her way across Whitestone and thought:  _ Let me show you how to dress, how to speak, how to walk in a straight line without hurting yourself. _

So it was a thoroughly odd feeling to sniffle into the crook of Lyra’s neck and feel her gangly arms squeeze tighter. Lyra was a surprisingly tactile person and quite skilled at providing physical comfort, at carding her hands through Cassandra’s hair and murmuring the slightest hint of a lullaby. Cassandra hated it, hated feeling like an overgrown child being taken care of by the queen of overgrown children, and yet could not summon the willpower to push Lyra away.

Lyra spoke first. “Let me get you something eat. And a cup of tea. You’ll feel better with some food in your belly.”

“Whiskey would be preferable,” Cassandra said and Lyra laughed and hugged her closer.

“Some whiskey then.” Lyra straightened her back, stretched, and began shuffling through the cabinets. Cassandra felt very cold. The sudden aloneness as their bodies separated had chilled her and something like clarity began to filter through her muddled brain.

“I can fetch it myself,” she said.

Lyra didn’t even turn around. “You shouldn’t have to fetch yourself supper after the day you’ve had.”

“I’ve had worse days,” Cassandra said, slightly petulant. “I don’t like being taken care of.”

That time Lyra did turn around, and her mouth opened and then shut it firmly. Cassandra could  _ feel  _ the questions radiating out of her and wondered how one even began to explain a person like Delilah Briarwood and the years of enforced childhood under her command. Lyra had to know the basic facts of the matter, but how to make her understand the terror of it all, the mounting claustrophobia, those horrible little dresses with frills and bows and.

“I can leave you alone,” Lyra said. Her voice broke Cassandra’s rememberings; Delilah shrunk into the background.

“No, I…” Cassandra swallowed hard. “Lyra, I don’t know how to have a friend who isn’t forced to be my friend through family ties. But I like you. Very Much. I just ask for your patience as I… relearn how to do this. Please.”

For a few horrible moments Lyra was silent, thoughtful, and then she smiled and all the air went out of Cassandra’s lungs.

“I like you too. Very much.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t sure if you…”

“No, I…”

“Really?”

“I told you, I’m a beginner at all this.”

And then Lyra was crossing the space between them and before Cassandra had the time to realize what was happening, her mouth was on Cassandra’s mouth and Cassandra’s mouth was opening to take it. 

It was not unlike kissing Delilah in that it was warm and wet. The difference was afterwards when they broke apart; there was no surge of shame, just a warm giddiness spreading through her chest.

“Oh,” said Cassandra.

“Was that alright?” 

Cassandra nodded and kissed her again.

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Vex'ahlia never looked more regal. She leaned against a veritable mountain of goose feather pillows, hair undone and curling around her, blankets drawn up to her chest; seeing Cassandra, she raised a limp hand to the delegate from Kymal, a nervous looking man with tufts of red hair. He startled as if she'd slapped him.

"Edgar, we are finished for today. I hope you will consider my proposal."

The delegate nodded and shuffled his scrolls of parchment between his arms. "I will alert my superiors. I wish you a speedy recovery, Lady de Rolo." He nodded at Cassandra. "Lady Cassandra de Rolo."

"Charmed."

They waited to speak until his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"I think you scared him half to death. Really Vex, what were you thinking? Diplomatic meetings in your bedchamber?" Cassandra laughed and flopped backwards onto the mattress.

"Serves him right, the little twerp. As if I'd let him decimate the forests for his stupid garrison," Vex fumed, extending one hand to stroke at Cassandra's hair. "You're giddy today, darling."

Cassandra sat up and swiveled to face Vex'ahlia.  
  
"Vex."

"Yes darling?"

"Will you promise not to laugh at me?"

Vex twisted her mouth to one side in an expression that very plainly said not to trust any of her assurances to the contrary. "Cass. What is it? You look like Jane the night before Winter's Crest."

It all fell out before she could modulate her voice. "Lyra kissed me! Last night! And then I kissed her and we both kissed a lot!" She clapped her hands over her mouth to hide her grin. Vex's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"Sweet Pelor, I thought you were still in the awkward crush phase! How was it?"

Then the most curious thing happened: Cassandra opened her mouth to respond and instead of words, a torrent of giggles fell out. She giggled and giggled and couldn't seem to stop. Vex stared. She could not have looked more horrified if Cassandra sprouted horns, and her gaping mouth only fueled Cassandra's hysterics.

"It was lovely but I do think I might be going mad," Cassandra finally managed to squeak out. Her heart beat strong and heavy and she felt a little dizzy, almost drunk. Vex frowned.

"Are you having a panic attack?"

Cassandra considered the facts and was forced to conclude that panic formed a large part of her response. She flung her hands up and shrugged. "Possibly. But I'm also very happy. Vex'ahlia, I think she really likes me."

"Yes, liking someone does tend to preclude kissing them. Can I get you something? Tea? A shot of something?"

"No thank you, I still have to meet with Kynan about the Elvendawn parade route. But oh, it was so lovely, I had to rush in and tell you. Is kissing always like that?" She reached forward to clasp Vex's hands and Vex began to laugh too.

"Only with the right person." Vex said in a sing-song, reaching up to pinch Cassandra's cheek; for once Cassandra didn't pull away. "You know, I think this is the first time I've seen you look your age."

"Do I? Oh dear, what is it? I know my hair's a little looser than usual," Cassandra said, sighing and smoothing down her skirts. Part of her, deep down in the recesses of her heart, was pleased to think that she looked young, that her happiness was so visible. Part of her wanted everyone to know how wonderful it felt to be kissed by Lyra, that Lyra had chosen _her_ of all people to kiss. The rest of her reacted as if Vex had told her that she'd tracked bear shit over the nice carpets.

"You just have a certain glow to you, I suppose. You still look very stern and imposing, of course, but you seem more...? Just more." Vex smiled, then winced and began rearranging the pillows behind her. Cassandra felt all the blood rush to her gut.

"You're feeling alright? No more pains?"

"No, just sore. Don't make that face."

Cassandra tried to rearrange her face to look less panic-stricken. For a moment she'd forgotten how ill Vex had been, how ill she still was. The fear and sick, sick anxiety flooded back. It was so odd, feeling so wretched and so happy all at once.

"I won't fuss," she murmured at her lap. "I know you hate fussing and I'm sure Percival's doing enough for both of us."

"Percival's been oddly calm about the whole thing, actually. I'm sure it's some sort of manly stoicism but it's still comforting. And really, I'm not too worried. Honestly. I know we'll be alright. Call it a mother's intuition."

Cassandra looked up at Vex's pale, drawn face, her enormously bloated stomach, the dark grey circles under her eyes; she wanted to sob. Instead she smiled as brightly as she could and squeezed Vex's hands. "I trust your intuition then. You'll both be fine."

"My intuition also thinks that you'll be alright too." Vex said, leaning forward. "You're not meant to be alone, and you won't be. If not with Lyra, then someone else."

It was with some surprise that Cassandra felt tears prick at the corners of her eyelids. "Oh? Do I seem like the marrying type?"

"Very much so. You de Rolo siblings are all hopeless romantics deep down."

Cassandra cleared her throat noisily. "What else does your intuition say?"

"The baby's a boy," Vex said matter-of-factly, leaning back and huffing slightly at the effort. "Percy doesn't believe me but I know it. He'll be pleased. He'd never say anything of course, but I know he'd like a son."

A little boy, maybe with little black ringlets or soft brown wisps of hair, ears just slightly pointed at the tip, ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes. For a moment Cassandra could see him so clearly that she almost believed Vex. Like her brother, she was not in the habit of trusting intuition. Shouldn't _their_ mother's intuition have sensed danger when the Briarwoods came to stay? Shouldn't Vex have known when Amelia fell down the stairs and bumped her head last summer? Intuition was too vague, always so certain over inconsequential things and silent over the things that really mattered. Still, it was a nice thought. A little boy. Cassandra, married. A _very_ nice thought indeed.

"Jane will be disappointed," Cassandra said, trying not to sound choked and teary. She couldn't stop imaging herself in a bridal veil. The image hovered at the edge of her imagination, taunting and cruel.

"I always wanted a sister," Vex said dreamily. "Jane has Amelia, so she's already got one over me."

"I always wanted a younger sibling," Cassandra said. "I didn't care what kind, I just didn't want to be the baby anymore. But Mother said seven was enough for anyone. I suppose she was right."

Vex cocked her head to the side and laughed. "Seven is certainly more than enough, take it from me."

 

* * *

 

 Cassandra cancelled her lunch with Allura and instead, brought a tray of sandwiches to the library. They remained untouched on Lyra's worktable, the two women having found a much more appetizing use of their time. Without ever speaking or negotiating or deciding, they curled up on the floor and kissed lazily, breaking off into excited laughter every few minutes. Cassandra had begun to anticipate the motion of Lyra's tongue against her own, the way her hands clenched around Cassandra's waist, the little noise she made in the back of her throat when Cassandra pressed closer. It was like learning the most marvelous new language.

It was some time before they broke apart. Lyra buried her face in Cassandra's chest and sighed noisily. "I suppose you have a very important meeting to go to," she huffed.

"I do," Cassandra said. She couldn't remember what it was but she was sure something had been scheduled. Something was always scheduled. It was all very fuzzy.  
"I'd like to do this again," Lyra said.

"Mmmmmm," said Cassandra. She leaned down to sniff Lyra's hair. It had no particular scent. She inhaled anyway.

"Supper again?"

"I promised I'd look after the children tonight. Their governess has the day off."

"Maybe we can meet after supper? When the children are in bed? I can come to your room."

Cassandra felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured down her dress. She swallowed and tried to moderate her breathing. _Of course_. Of course that was what Lyra wanted. This was what people expected after a certain amount of kissing. This was the natural progression. How stupid had she been to think Lyra would remain content with endless cuddling?

"Cassandra?" Lyra lifted her head groggily. Cassandra blinked.

"I..."

 _I have the most hideous scars all over my body. It's been seven years and I still cry sometimes after I touch myself. I am a hideous mess of a person and it's a miracle that I haven't exploded on you yet. I promise that if you have to see me naked you will run screaming, or worse_ I'll _run screaming._

"I hope you understand but I can't have any... gossip surrounding me. If anyone were to see... You know how people are, and as circumspect as the guards are, I worry that a young woman leaving my room late at night would be too much to expect them to keep to themselves."

She made a mental note to give Kynan a raise in exchange for her scapegoating. Lyra's eyes bulged. "I didn't even imagine that!"

"Yes well," Cassandra waved her arm awkwardly. "It's part of the job."

"So you can never...?"

"I mean, I suppose I could, if I was courted through the proper channels and it was a suitable match. I'm not forced into celibacy."

"It sounds a bit like that," Lyra said. She bit her bottom lip and nestled closer. Her weight suddenly felt unbearably heavy, pinning Cassandra to the stone floor. It was almost tempting to push her off, banish her from Whitestone, take the uncomfortable situation and burn it until no trace of it existed.

"Nobody forces me to do anything. There are just consequences to my choices. I don't want to make myself into an object of fun. Ergo, I choose to conduct my relationships with a certain decorum." It was haughty and cruel, the same voice Vex had used earlier with the delegate from Kymal. It made her words posh and oddly high-pitched and even as Cassandra hated herself, she couldn't stop herself. The lies were so easy. They just fell out of her mouth like vomit, like retching up something vile.

"Do you have many suitors?" Lyra asked, her voice muffled by Cassandra's blouse.

 _Might as well ask if an earthworm has suitors._ Again, she imagined herself in a veil and long dress and again, she felt sick. "Not many suitors, not especially. It hasn't been a priority for me."

"Do you do..." Lyra rolled off Cassandra's lap and onto the floor, landing with a little thump. "Do you do _this_ with many people?"

There simply was no way an intelligent woman, an arcane scholar, could not have guessed the answer to that. There was no need to ask except to hear Cassandra's stumbling response, for the joy of humiliating her. It appeared that Lyra had a cruel streak as well. It was, in a detached way, very impressive. Cassandra felt her chest expand with rage even as she thought, idly, that Lyra would have made a decent politician.

It was like negotiating, like playing cards; it was a game that Cassandra knew and loved. If she felt thoroughly miserable that her relationship with Lyra had devolved into a battle of wills, she did not show it.

"All have been understanding of my position and what it entails."

Lyra crumbled into her robes. Cassandra had won; she wasn't sure if she wanted to rush at Lyra and hold her and apologize and kiss her until she looked happier, or if she ought to feel pleased with herself. She did feel a little pleased, that familiar little rush that came of besting the competition. She was not very pleased. She felt slightly sick to her stomach.

"I won't ask you to woo me publicly. I don't want to be wooed publicly. We hardly know each other, after all. But I do like this, and I don't think it would be the worst thing if we... kept as we are. I know fondling in the library is a little childish, but it's a good first step."

This was solid ground. Speech-giving felt good, made her feel strong; Cassandra felt her heart begin to slow and her stomach unclench. Lyra's face relaxed and she sat up a little straighter, looked a bit less like Amelia mid-tantrum and more like a dragon-slayer.

"That sounds nice. I like this and y'know, I wasn't trying to force you into something that would be um, politically bad for you? I would never want that. I just didn't understand, I guess. This is new to me. I still barely know which fork to use at dinner." She smiled shyly and Cassandra's stomach clenched harder than ever.

"I shouldn't have snapped," she admitted, and as always, Julius's voice echoed in the back of her mind: _"A de Rolo never apologizes. We may admit our mistakes privately and should always strive to do better, but it won't do to admit that to others. It makes you seem wishy-washy. A de Rolo should never seem wishy-washy."_

"You've had a hard twenty-four hours. And don't tell me that it wasn't that bad, because it doesn't need to be dragon-attack levels of bad to be bad," Lyra said, laughing a little and grinning wildly.

Cassandra let herself reach out and clasp Lyra's waist with one hand. "Alright then. It was bad. Are you happy?"

They moved towards each other in tandem, lips meeting halfway. Lyra kissed voraciously, like she wanted to eat Cassandra from the inside out. It was a few moments before they broke away.

"I'm very happy."

"Good. So am I."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very short chapter this time around but this felt like it needed to be distinguished from what comes before and after instead of being smushed into a different plot point.
> 
> this was a really hard chapter to write and i'm still not thrilled with it? hopefully cassandra doesn't come off as totally unlikeable— panic responses can be a bitch, and afterall she's only known lyra for a month or so and they've only been kissing for a day. girl keeps her cards close to her chest! 
> 
> thank you to everyone who reviewed and liked and shared and bookmarked; i am catching up on responding to all your lovely comments but please rest assured that i read them and all cherish them all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a big warning for discussion of the aftermath of sexual assault, nothing too explicit. 
> 
> i am very sorry this is so late! life got busy, you know the drill. in other updates: i got a twitter! follow me @jesterstrongbut for fic updates and art and general critical role screaming :D
> 
> every single person who has liked and commented is an angel and i am very grateful to all of you.

 

Somehow Lyra's hand found its way to Cassandra's neck and the pads of her fingers somehow pressed against the little raised bumps. Cassandra did not think of Sylas, white-toothed and looming. She did not think of anything but how good Lyra's mouth tasted and then, with a rush, _oh_. She pushed that thought aside and began grinding desperately against Lyra's thigh, and then forgot to panic for several hours.

At their next meeting, Lyra's touches were noticeably gentled and she glanced at Cassandra with something almost like reverence, like how Percival sometimes looked at their father's crest. She opened her mouth, perhaps to ask about the scars, perhaps to ask about supper— Terrified, Cassandra reached up her skirts and slipped a finger between her legs, eliciting a husky-voiced whine instead. It became something of a game, distracting Lyra long enough, keeping her gaze averted from anything approaching intimacy.

Their kisses were no longer startling or desperate. To call them routine felt a bit like a lie and a bit not. It was never _dull_ kissing Lyra, but they kissed often enough where they could reasonably anticipate how the other's mouth tended to react. It was a bit like dancing a complicated waltz or playing the violin; one memorized the steps, the notes, and yet it never failed to bring pleasure to practice.

Lyra still tugged at Cassandra's clothes and made desperate little pleas to get her into bed and Cassandra, playing her part with verve, always refused. Lyra was the child asking for one more piece of candy and Cassandra the stern but fair governess. Lyra was needling, obnoxious, Cassandra was very deeply in love.

If others knew, they were blessedly silent. Vex must have told Percival, because he never questioned Lyra's presence at family meals, at Vex's bedside, at afternoons spent rolling around on the floor with Jane and Amelia. The children still distrusted Lyra but it seemed to have shifted to a vague sense of her incompetence versus active terror, so Cassandra counted it as an improvement and tried not to laugh when Jane hid Lyra's spectacles in the toy chest. For Lyra's part, she seemed to understand that such things were required if one wanted to regularly kiss a de Rolo, and never complained about the dozenth evening spent watching a four year old's puppet rendition of Cinderella.

"Time always seems to drag on, even when I'm quite content," Cassandra told Vex. "Except now everything seems to have arranged itself so neatly in no time at all. Lyra hardly arrived and now everything is..." Again the word routine caught on the tip of her tongue. "Everything seems normal," she finished lamely.

"Isn't that odd?" Vex said. "I felt like I was living in a haze before Percival and I were together. I hardly knew where I was or why, and I still hardly do unless I'm with him. Then it's like everything shudders to a halt and I can think clearly. It's how I imagine Percy feels when he puts his glasses on in the morning. Like the background comes into focus."

 

* * *

 

The next day, over raspberry jam and an inquest into the unlicensed hunting of a moose, Cassandra felt brave enough to ask when Vex knew that she didn't just like kissing Percival, but wanted to marry and have a dozen babies with Percival. Vex made a very indelicate choking noise and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"Do you want a serious answer or are you trying to tell me something?"

Cassandra shrugged. "I have no plans for marriage. Nor any particular desire. I'm not sure if I should have that desire."

They ate in silence for almost a full minute before Vex sucked the jam off her fingers and leaned back against the pillows with a thoughtful expression. "I knew I was very much in love with Percy before I knew he loved me in return. I think... I remember that the first time we were intimate, I lay awake for a long time and I watched him snore, and instead of being annoyed at his snoring I couldn't help but think it was adorable. And I knew that if we survived and if he was willing, I would gladly spend every night for the rest of my life lying awake listening to his snores." She went a little pink at the tips of her ears and began gathering up the bits of parchment from her lap. "I hope that isn't funny for you to hear about your brother, dear."

"It's nothing particularly scandalous," Cassandra said with forced lightness. "I... I've always been a bit envious of how easy it seems for you both. I don't feel like that with Lyra. If she snored I would leave her without question."

It was meant to be a joke and they both gave an obligatory chuckle, but the air felt thick and heavy, the room smaller than it was before.

"I think that most relationships, most very happy relationships even, don't happen like me and Percy. Nothing promotes intimacy like dragon attacks, you know. And we'd known each other for years. I hardly fell in love from the moment I saw him wasting away in a prison cell."

"I don't like to think of him in prison," Cassandra said. It was true, and yet she found herself embracing the goriest details her imagination could summon rather than think about Lyra. Better to perseverate on Percival bound and gagged, bloody and bruised.

"My point was that he was hardly my knight in shining armor. This sort of thing takes time." Vex took another fingerful of jam and sighed. "There were others before Percy. And even though I'm very happy and very glad that I found him, I also don't mind the time I spent with them. Maybe Lyra will only last a few weeks. I don't think that's so bad if they're a happy few weeks."

"We're going to have to take this to trial," Cassandra said firmly. "This is the second time Ulrick has pulled a stunt like this and if nothing else, eventually he'll go after something more dangerous than a moose and get himself killed."

"I agree," Vex said. "Let's schedule it for after the baby's born. I want to testify."

Cassandra made a note on the parchment and folded it lengthwise. "I also... Percival knows about the... unpleasant things that happened to you, right?" She could not look Vex in the face. She would not. She smoothed the edge of the parchment and stared at a loose thread on her sleeve.

"Of course darling. And I know the bad things that happened to him. We didn't tell each other right away, but..." Cassandra could hear Vex shift against the heavy eiderdown. "We knew those things before we ever... I mean, it came up afterwards, and we both know more of the details now that we've been married for quite a while. You know, little things like I don't like to be touched a certain way. He as well."

That was new. Cassandra suspected that, given the general topic of conversation, it was being heavily implied that Percival had been tortured in more ways than one. The suspicion seemed to tunnel its way into her chest and settle in her gut, heavy and nauseating. She pushed it away. She didn't want to know that; to even vaguely suspect it was painful. Percival, chained and bloody, that she could handle. Nothing more.

"Cass?"

Vex's hand was warm on her own. She focused on the sensation until she felt settled enough to speak without her voice trembling. "I resented him, that he never suffered the way I did. I _do_ resent him. But then, I never bothered to ask."

And then, another bubble of bitterness burst forth: Percival had the luxury of hiding what happened to him. Percival wasn't paraded around Whitestone in improper corsets, caressed in front of visitors. Percival's torture, whatever it consisted of, had a firm start and end date. It was private where Cassandra's had been a vaudeville spectacle.

"It doesn't bear thinking about," Vex said firmly. "You're both alive and healthy and happy. That's what matters. You don't need to worry about what he suffered in the past. He has me to take care of him now."

Was that a hint of possessiveness? Cassandra frowned and clutched at Vex's hand. "I'm sorry our conversations are always so fraught. You're right. I need to get better at leaving the past behind."

"Darling. Does it really never occur to you that I enjoy your company? That I care about you and worry about you?"

Cassandra blinked and made an wholly involuntary, rather high-pitched noise in the back of her throat.

 

* * *

 

_My dearest Keyleth,_

_I have only good news to report, thank Pelor. Despite our earlier fears, Vex'ahlia continues to grow stronger and the healers are optimistic that she will deliver with no lasting effects for her or the child. She may even have more (a terrifying thought!). Pike Trickfoot will arrive at Whitestone in a few days. I am not sure that she has much experience in midwifery, but I am grateful for her presence both as a cleric and an old friend, who I am sure will do wonders for Percival's nerves. He is understandably rattled as of late. Scanlan Shorthalt accompanies Miss Trickfoot, so it will be rather a Vox Machina reunion. We completely understand that your responsibilities prevent you from joining us, yet we still miss you terribly and hope you will be able to slip away for the child's name-day. Percival needs someone to take him out for a drink and a good cry-- As I would only make him even more anxious and awkward, I hope and pray that we will see you soon._

_Please tell me how Trish is getting on. She is rather brusque for an ambassador but has rather a brilliant political brain, and I am very interested in her progress._

_Strangely enough given the earlier chaos, life at Whitestone has entered a comforting routine. I know I mentioned in an earlier letter that Lyra, of the Slayer's Take, has come to stay for a short period. She is doing research into one of my distinguished ancestor's mathematical accomplishments. The poor girl has had to deal with our sudden medical emergency and has done so with aplomb. I find her a steady and fascinating companion._

_I trust that I can be frank with you. Given the seriousness of Vex'ahlia's condition, you will understand my caution in entertaining guests that have the slightest chance of exacerbating her or Percival's worries. Lyra is a very sweet thing, but I gather that she has had a checkered past and I would be very grateful if you could share any knowledge you may have about her. I have no reason to suspect any danger, far from it, but I would not be doing my duty to Whitestone and my brother if I did not ask. If there is the possibility that she might cause Vex'ahlia a single particle of discomfort over the next month or so, I must know._

_Please do not worry Percival over my paranoia; the poor dear has so much on his plate right now._

_Jane and Amelia grow bigger every day, have scared off yet another nursery maid, and every night include their "Aunt Kiki" in their prayers. As do I._

_Your devoted friend,_   
_Cassandra de Rolo_

 

* * *

 

_Dear Scanlan,_

_Percival and I expect you and Miss Trickfoot in one week's time, around midday. Your rooms are prepared, and we are quite anxious to see you after such a long absence. Unfortunately Vex'ahlia will not be able to meet you at the village, however I have arranged for us to take our supper in her bedchamber so that you will all have a chance to catch up._

_I must insist that you limit your presents for Jane and Amelia, who are quite spoiled as it is._

_Before we meet, I ask that, at some point during your stay, we find time for a private conversation. I was reading dear Taryon's new book and have some questions about your adventures, specifically your initiation into the Slayer's Take. Of course Taryon was not there for that particular escapade (though one might get the opposite impression from his account!). I am arranging some of our records here at Whitestone and have found a number of discrepancies that I wish to correct if possible. You will understand the need for discretion, as Percival and Vex'ahlia are anxious enough as it is and it seems inappropriate to bother them during this difficult time. I feel that you are my best chance of an objective report._

_I cannot thank you and Miss Trickfoot enough for your kindness and look forward to seeing you very soon._

_Yours sincerely,_   
_Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo_

 

* * *

 

Percival and Cassandra long ago came to terms with the loss of Mother's wedding ring. It was one of the first things Cassandra looked for after Whitestone's liberation, and when Percival admitted his intention to marry Vex, they searched again. There was no trace of it, and after giving up the hunt, they spent an evening sitting on the floor, all of Mother's remaining jewelry and treasures scattered around them, and became rather tipsy on Courage. Then they went to their separate rooms and had a good cry. And that was that.

As it turned out, Vex didn't even want a ring. She said it made her feel like an animal on display. At official events she could be persuaded to wear one of Percival's own design, but in private she preferred to go without.

Cassandra's original interest in the ring was mostly a desire for anything that her mother had loved, that held any connection to her, that she had maybe worn in her last moments. She wanted it for the same reason she wanted Mother's ivory comb and enamel pen. Then she wanted it because Percival wanted it, and then she forgot about it.

Until Lyra.


End file.
